


No Big Deal

by EonAO3



Series: Picture Perfect [9]
Category: Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Celebrity Crush, Domestic Fluff, Domestication, Engagement, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Love Stories, Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sebastian Stan fandom - Freeform, Secret Crush, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:17:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3
Summary: The devil is in the details and other problems planning a wedding to Sebastian Stan.





	

Life is funny. Sometimes it's hard to know which kind of funny. Today, funny was the exhausting kind, stressful and threatening to make you break down and cry in frustration. Funny shouldn't be snarky comments under your breath and sarcastic laughter to yourself keeping you from throttling people, literally or figuratively. Planning your wedding to Sebastian Stan should not be this hard.

Sitting on the floor of your shared apartment in Tribeca, you were suddenly aware that not having an assistant or any close girlfriends in NY was a poor situation to be in. Everyone was back in LA or home in Indy. Up until now, you didn't need the help. Until now, you'd skated by, running most of your own calendar for New York and Ashley still handling everything else from the other coast for you via FaceTime and email. It had all been working up until today. Today, you really could have used a hand to hold while you toured the venue to plan table and seating setups, and other details, with the location's event coordinator.

It wasn't Sebastian's fault he missed the appointment. His assistant was local and kept his schedule full and running like a well-oiled machine. Maybe if you had Ashley on hand, you would have remembered that morning's GMA segment and lunchtime magazine interview he had on the books for weeks and could have rearranged the meeting for another day this week when he was available. On the other hand, maybe if you were a little less busy yourself, you could have found an extra bff to cozy up to in New York who could help out. After all, you'd lived in the city for over a year now. How could your circle of friends still be so drawn around LA?

Even Beau's nose to cheek nudges and sniffs were intrusive and irritating, instead of loveable and cute. That's what you get for sitting on the floor, but you were uncomfortable hunched over the dining room table and decided to spread your notes and contracts, and other miscellaneous paperwork and vendor ads, over the coffee table so you could stretch out a bit. You were just pushing Beau's usually adorable mug from your face for the umpteenth time in the last hour, when you both heard Sebastian's key in the door and the dog took off to greet his returning master. You puffed out your cheeks, in a heavy exhale of combined relief to have the dog out of your way and aggravation at the details taunting you from the table in front of you.

Sebastian slid in the door with his usual smile and loveable babbling down at Beau, greeting him with a rub of his half-flopped ears and asking if the dog had a good day. Throwing the bolt on the door, Sebastian looked over the room and snorted with a smile at spying you on the floor. You threw back a tired smile and he hung up the garment bag in his hand on the hook by the door. He dropped his bright blue Wayfarers on the table with his keys and bent down to kiss the top of your head before he took a seat beside you on the couch.

"What's all this?" he asked, leaning a forearm onto his knee to peek over your shoulder.

"This," you gestured broadly over the scattered pages of contracts, seating plans, and lists, "is your reception."

"My reception?" he chuckled, settling into the couch back. "You're not going? I thought you'd be there."

Your head ticked back with a snort of humorless laughter. "Heh, yeah. If I don't throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge first," you grumbled.

Sebastian gave you a small push in the back of your shoulder. "What'sa matter?" he asked.

You saw him scratching his fingertips into the top of Beau's head on his knee and shook your head, reaching forward to sift through the chaos on the coffee table to find the guest list and seating chart. You told him it was nothing, while your lips made tiny, silent movements, comparing and counting seats around tables and the the number of positive RSVPs in your head. Your head cocked to the side with an unhappy click of your tongue, when Sebastian gave your shoulder another gentle nudge and you lost track of the numbers. Dammit. You lifted and pushed around papers on the table, looking for your pencil so your could just score numbers in the margins of the chart.

"Hey," Sebastian coaxed, from behind you.

You might have missed the first call for your attention, because the inflection in the tiny word seemed a bit insistent for a first try. "Yeah?" you replied, letting out a triumphant snort through your nose at finding your pencil.

"You alright?" he checked, rhythmically, but softly, poking his finger into the back of your shoulder.

You knew he was just being playful to keep your attention, but it was annoying today and you made a rolling shrug of your shoulder away from his touch. "Yeah," you told him, scratching in your first set of numbers on the edge of the guest list. "Fine. Just...I'm trying to count and you're not helping."

"How's it looking?" he asked, giving Beau's head a pat and rubbing his hand over the dogs snout and mouth as Beau grumbled happy sounds and tried to lick at Sebastian's palm. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

"Still waiting to hear back from another 28 or so," you distractedly told him, your eyes ticking from the papers in one hand to the ones in the other.

Sebastian's finger found its way back to your shoulder, one finger scratching a gentle line up and down. "What are you doing?"

You stared at the seating plan for the hall the reception was going to be held in, for a moment. "Uhh," you stalled, needing to finish your own thought about the chart before you could address his. You made a quick mark on the page and answered, "Trying to figure out if we need to go with the round tables for 8 or if we need the bigger ones for 10."

"Why don't we just go with the bigger ones?" he suggested, pushing Beau's head back as he palmed his hand to rub over the dog's face and made a playful growl of his own to mimick Beau.

"I'm trying not to," you said.

"Why not?" Sebastian asked, wrapping his hand around Beau's snout and giving his head a gentle shake. "That way everyone has more room."

You let out a frustrated sigh, the dog's mumbling a surprisingly irrepressible noise in your head. "Because if we go with the bigger tables, we're taking up more space. And if we take up more space, we've got to rearrange the setup and dance floor. And if we end up moving the dance floor, then I'll have to move the head table and- And shit," you realized. "Then the cake table has to move. Or if we have to move any of it, we might as well just go with the larger ballroom. And then I have to redo the contract and...Shit."

"So, then let's just go with the bigger room," he decided. "You liked both of them, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but that's not the point," you sighed.

"It sounds like it'd be easier if we just had the bigger room," he said.

"But we already picked this one," you reminded him, putting a finger down on the floor plan in front of you.

You heard the indifferent shrug in his voice when Sebastian said, "So, well just call 'em and tell them we need the bigger room. It's not like anyone else is getting married there that weekend. We'll just have them switch it."

"You can't just switch it," you assured him, a bit snippier than necessary. "There's contracts that need to be redone. It'll cost more."

"We can pay the extra," he mentioned. "No big deal."

You went on, ticking off your other points and practically ignoring his comment. "I have to start over from scratch with the floor plan, redo the seating chart if we have more seats at the tables, see about the set up for music..."

You trailed of as the list got longer and more daunting. Sebastian's hand curved over your shoulder and gave it a squeeze. His thumb rubbed a deep circle into your tense muscles and you let out a defeated sigh. He told Beau to go lay down, sending the dog to his oversized pillow under the window and asked, for the third time, what was wrong, his tone much more insistent.

You dropped the papers and flipped your pencil onto the coffee table in surrender. "I'm done," you declared. "This is ridiculous. It's too much. Why did I think I could this?!" You raised your hands, palms turned up in clawed frustration before gesturing over the pile of paperwork in front of you. "This is why people pay out the ass for wedding planners. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"Heyyy," he soothed, his hand gripping your shoulder, firm but reassuring. "Take it easy." Sebastian scooted forward to sit on the edge of the couch, his hand sliding from your left shoulder, across your back, and resting on your right with another gentle squeeze. "What'dya mean 'you're done'? You're doing great."

You shook your head. "You have no idea," you complained, the enormity of the event coming out in your airy, but overwhelmed, tone. "RSVPs are due in three days. Three days and 28-" You looked over the list again. "29 people haven't replied. That's 58 guests. Now, I have to call Oheka and tell them to switch the rooms, re-do the contract, drive back out and re-sign the contract-"

"Sweetie," Sebastian cooed.

"-meet with the coordinator to re-draw the floor plans," you rattled on, lifting pages, trying to find your to-do list. "Pick new linens, if they don't have enough of what we already picked out to accommodate the larger room-"

"[Y/n]," Sebastian practically barked, giving your shoulder under his hand a nudge to snap you out of your rant.

"What?" you bit back.

"It'll be okay," he promised, with a worried kindness in his brow and smile as he looked down at you. "You're doing great. It's going to be perfect."

"It's a fuckin' train wreck," you grumblingly assured him.

You shifted on your bottom to sit up a little straighter and picked up your things from the table to get back to work. You pushed a hand back into the hair on top of your head and grabbed ahold, biting your lip as you studied the list in your other hand. You sucked in a deep breath and held it a beat, trying to ward of the heat of tears you felt stinging behind your eyes.

"It's our wedding," he flatly reminded you, "not a 'fuckin' train wreck'." Sebastian won the battle over pulling the pencil out of your hand. You sulked for its loss, as you shuffled the pages in your hand and brushed a finger across you nose, clearing your throat quietly to try and settle down. "Just...take a break for a few minutes. You'll see it's not that big 'a deal. Why don't you take Beau for a little w-a-l-k, get some fresh air, maybe grab a coffee or something, and, when you come back, we'll figure it out together. Okay?"

You let out a disgruntled sigh and eyed the notes in your hand. "I'd rather-"

"It wasn't really a suggestion," Sebastian evenly corrected, tugging the papers out of your hand with a sharp, and unexpected, pull. "Go take a break." He bumped his knee into the side of your arm to spur you on. "Our 'fuckin' train wreck' will be here when you get back."

"Fine," you unwillingly relented, pushing up off the floor with a scowl on your face and indifferent to his unhappy tone with you.

You put on a pair of shoes and took Beau on a walk. You took Sebastian's advice and treated yourself to an indulgent flavored coffee you knew you didn't need, especially if you were going to fit into your gown. What the hell? You threw calories to the wind, knowing workouts with Don would have you squared away well before your final fitting. You let Beau lead the meandering way around a few blocks further than usual, while you sipped your drink. After a good half hour of aimless wandering, you gave Beau's leash a tug and pointed yourselves home.

Upstairs in your apartment, you frowned as soon as you turned into the room from shutting the door and loosing Beau. You dropped your keys on the table by the door with an angry huff, eyes running over every inch you could see of the apartment. All of your projects and papers from the coffee table were gone and nowhere in sight; not in the living room, not on the dining table, not even in the bag by the door you used to carry info and contracts for wedding business appointments. Thinking he must have moved it all to the office, you went there next. You stomped your foot in frustration, your hands helplessly falling with a slap to your sides when you couldn't find any of the things you'd spent hours organizing.

"What the hell?!" you yelled, looking in drawers and under other papers on the desk.

You stopped and turned toward the office doorway when you heard footsteps in the hall. Sebastian leaned his shoulder into the doorframe and wrinkled his brow, calmly asking, "What's all the yelling about?"

"Where's my stuff?" you all but whined. "It was on the coffee table and now it's gone and I can't find it anywhere."

"I put it away for the night," he told you, rather placid in comparison to you, as he folded his arms.

"But I'm not done with it," you argued.

Taking in a breath, Sebastian's brow rose with his chest. "Yes," he insisted, "you are. How was your walk? Did you get a coffee or somethin'?"

"Oh, fuck my coffee," you spat, waving an indifferent hand. "What'd you do with my paperwork? I need to call and-"

"No more wedding stuff today," he said, with a small shake of his head. "Take a night off and, I promise, you can get back to your nervous breakdown tomorrow."

"Don't be smart," you grumbled, leveling your eyes. "I've got too much to do. We've got less than two months and some seriously big changes to make. I need my stuff. Please?"

Sebastian pushed off the edge of the doorway and crossed the office, with his head tipping tiredly to the side. "I know," he said, sympathetically, as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. Reluctantly, you folded your arms around his waist and he rewarded you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head when you finally let your muscles relax and rest against him. "This is a lot of work."

"There's sooo much left to do," you complained, your voice, muffled by his sweatshirt, sounding even more wimpy than you expected it to. "God, if I just had Ashley or somebody to run some of this stuff down with me..."

"Don't worry about it," he told you. "We'll get everything done."

You leaned your head back to see him. "Alright," you dared. "How are we gonna get everything done when you're on a plane in 3 days, I have a screen test at Pinewood in 5, we have-"

"Shh shh shh," he interrupted, bending his forehead down to yours to look you in the eye. "What'd I say about no more wedding stuff today? Huh?" You started to argue again, barely getting a 'but' in before he pecked a kiss to your lips to keep you from talking. "You're done for today. Tomorrow, we're gonna go back up to Oheka and look at the other room again with Susan. I already called and she's gonna draft up the changes in the morning for us to look at over lunch. And by the time we get back in from Huntington, it'll be just about time to head over to LaGuardia to pick up your ma at 3:30." Sebastian pulled back his arms to bring his hands up to cup your face, his brow wagging up and smiling at you, hopefully. "Hm? Okay?"

"You called my mother?" you checked, completely skeptical. "My mom's coming out here?"

Sebastian dotted a kiss to your forehead and let you go, turning to head out of the office. "She's gonna stay through the weekend and help you get caught up after I leave," he explained, giving Beau a head sinking noogie as he passed him and rounded out of the office toward the living room.

Left alone, with Beau abandoning you to prance after Sebastian, you took one last look around and shrugged, at a complete loss. Following after the boys into the living room, you stopped short when Sebastian met you at the edge of the room, handing you what was left of your coffee with one hand and holding his keys in the other.

"Come on, cranky," he urged, with a grin in the side of his mouth. "Let's go grab some dinner. We'll get some dessert to go and, when we get back, we'll hangout, put on some music or a movie, and forget about it for a night; start fresh tomorrow. Sound like a plan?"

"I guess," you begrudgingly conceded, taking a sip off your straw.

Sebastian slipped around behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you toward the front door. "That's the enthusiasm I was looking for," he groaned, giving your shoulders a little squeeze. "I love you," he said, into your ear.

You finally cracked a smile, your shoulders softening under the next massage of his hands. Looking behind you, as you reached the apartment door, you ducked your head, sheepish for the way you'd been acting. "I love you, too."

Sebastian reached a kiss to your cheek and leaned around you to open the door. "It's all gonna work out," he reassured you. "We've got plenty of time. It's going to be as perfect and beautiful as you are."

"Oh, great," you rolled your eyes, as Sebastian took your hand to bring you out into the hall with him. "Then we're definitely screwed."

Turning his key to lock the door, he gave you an exhausted side eye. "It's not too late," he offered, grabbing your hand again and walking you to the elevator. "We can always go down to city hall. In a court room or a castle, just tell me where and we'll go."

"Why are you so good to me?" you wondered, shaking your head when he pulled you close while you waited for the elevator. "I've been such a bitch about everything, lately. Why do you still put up with me?"

"Because you're my favorite," he told you, nibbling kisses at your neck.

"We're not getting married in some grimy New York City courtroom," you laughed, at the tickle of his breath on your skin.

"Then Oheka it is," he decided, sweeping an arm out to usher you into the elevator. "We're getting married in a castle. And it's going to be amazing and everyone's going to talk for years about how absolutely perfect everything was, all because you planned it."

"Now you're just exaggerating," you playfully groused, before a sip of coffee.

"I don't think so," he disagreed, with a thoughtful squint in one eye and a shake of his head. "I think it's going to be great. Look at all you've got done so far." He waved you out of the car ahead of him and took your hand again when he caught up. "The flowers, the food...that cake? You've got such an eye for the details, all the little things you think of. It's coming together beautifully. You just have to take a step back to see it and remember to enjoy it."

"I will," you nodded. "I am. It just got a little overwhelming today is all."

"And that's why we're taking a night off," he pointed out, opening the lobby door for you. "You need a break."

"You're right," you nodded.

"Of course I am," he scoffed. Sebastian grabbed your hand in his, twisting his fingers tightly with yours. "I really am proud of you, ya know? Taking all this on, putting it all together by yourself. I know, with work, I haven't been much help."

He squeezed your hand in a kind of apology. "It's not your fault," you told him, bumping your shoulder into his as you walked down the street. "Filming and press. You got busier than we expected. That's all. I know you'll catch up soon."

"You'll be sorry I'll be around so much to get in your way," he teased, bumping back into you.

"I'll be happy for the company," you assured him.

The further you got from the apartment, holding Sebastian's hand, the better you felt. It was all but impossible now to not smile along with him. Sebastian pulled your hand across him, to bring you under his arm, and kissed the side of your head.

"I'll be so under foot and annoyingly helpful, you'll change your mind about being stuck with me for the rest of your life," he warned you.

Your mouth gaped in amused offense. "Change my mind about marrying my sweet Romanian prince in a castle and living happily ever after?" you asked. "I don't think so."

"My princess," he smiled, holding you tight to his side and planting a kiss behind your ear.


End file.
